


the sun still rises (even with the pain)

by justimpolite



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, mention of stiles/lydia i guess, minor allison/lydia, really big major character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-08
Updated: 2014-03-08
Packaged: 2018-01-15 01:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1285723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justimpolite/pseuds/justimpolite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scott knew Stiles was long gone when the Nogitsune targeted Lydia.</p><p>‘No, it has to be me. I think I’ve always known it has to be this way, I just didn’t want to know it.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	the sun still rises (even with the pain)

‘These are just flames  
Burning in your fireplace  
I hear your voice and it seems  
As if it was all a dream  
I wish it was a dream.’

.

Scott knew Stiles was long gone when the Nogitsune targeted Lydia.

Stiles- no, the Nogitsune had managed to lure Lydia away from the group during a distraction. He had cocked Stiles’ head to the side, eyes roaming once, twice up and down Lydia’s trembling body. 

A sigh escaped Stiles’ lips, almost as if he was bored.

‘He always did like you,’ the Nogitsune had said, the knife it had acquired twirling slowly in his hand. ‘He knew there was no chance though; it got through to him in the end. You know, it’s almost exhausting being in this body. He just feels everything so strongly.’ 

A slender finger ran along the edge of the knife, caressing the top and drawing blood. Stiles had always been prone to papercuts; always catching his finger on a paper corner in his haste to throw everything into his bag. He would curse on reflex before bring the wound to his lips and sucking.

Now the blood just ran freely.

‘Lydia, Lydia,’ it drawled out. ‘Hearing him scream inside this head will be even more enjoyable with your blood on these hands.’

‘Stiles, Stiles please,’ Lydia was crying, make up running down her face. ‘Stiles, I know you’re in there, you can fight this.’

Stiles’ mouth dropped open as a cold laugh erupted from chapped lips. ‘No, Lydia. No he can’t. You see, he’s just not strong enough. None of you are. And you’re all going to die. One. By. One.’ Each word was punctuated with a step towards the girl.

The knife had almost reached Lydia’s white neck when the arrow pierced through the flesh of Stiles’ forearm. The Nogitsune reared back in pain, hissing at the blood that now ran steadily down to its trembling hand.

‘What’, it hissed, forcing Stiles’ head forcefully to the right to look for the source of the arrow. Just as he spotted Allison stringing another arrow in the distance, he was knocked the ground by two bodies crashing into him from behind. With a snarl he righted himself, taking note of the twin wolves running towards him. In one quick motion he reached out with both arms, injured and not, and snapped the wrists of his attackers just as they reached him. The yelled out in pain before falling to their knees as the Nogitsune continued to put pressure on bone.

Its head snapped up at the sound of a loud howl coming from not far ahead of him. Eyes locked with the Alpha boy. The Nogitsune smirked, pleased things had gone as it had imagined, before releasing its grip on the wolves and fleeing.

.  
Allison had been the first to make it over to Lydia, bundling the smaller girl up in her arms, pressing a kiss to the side of her head and taking her trembling hands into her own. Scott appeared shortly after, kneeling beside the two of them.

‘Lydia, are you okay?’

‘He was going to kill me,’ Lydia was near hysterical at this point, clinging desperately to the archer, hands twisting in the green of the girl’s jacket. ‘He wasn’t going to stop, I could tell.’

‘It’s okay, Lydia, you’re okay,’ Allison was desperately trying to calm her; and everybody else.

‘It’s not okay Allison, and you know it. We all know it.’ She looked to Scott as she said it, and he resisted the urge to vomit at the meaning behind her words.

‘I know,’ Scott said. ‘I know what I have to do.’

‘Scott,’ Allison looked up at him. ‘Scott I can do it. I’ll do it.’

He loved Allison, he always would, and he loved her all the more for the offering to do this. She knew what it would do to him. But there was no choice when it came to this.

‘No, it has to be me. I think I’ve always known it has to be this way, I just didn’t want to know it.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Allison is so desperate to help him, he almost accepts. But he knows it just has to be the two of them. 

(Or the three of them, he supposes.)

‘No, just-. Just stay with Lydia, please. Just take care of each other,’ and without another word he turns his back to them, and sprints away from all; from anything that could dissuade him.

.

 

Kira’s mom had thought it was Kira that would have to kill the Nogitsune, but she was wrong. She was right about the blade that needed to be used, it was the only thing that would kill it. But she had been wrong about the person wielding it. Noshiko was able to kill the Nogitsune because it was in Rhys’ body. There needed to be a connection between the host and the person to kill it. It had taken Scott a while to work it out, but he was sure of it now.

He had explained this to Kira the day before, who had handed the katana over without a word, only pausing to press a gentle kiss to his forehead, before following her mother away from him.

He had gone to pick up the blade from Deaton, with whom he had entrusted its safety. Deaton had simply nodded, squeezing his arm and leading him out the door. 

He had then tracked the Nogitsune to an old warehouse somewhere downtown (one of the few parts of Stiles that remained was his scent). It was obvious that the Nogitsune wasn’t hiding; he was waiting for Scott to come. Just like it always knew he would.

And this leads him to where he is now.

A deep breath.

Be your own anchor.

That doesn’t help much now, but it’s all he has.

Everything happens a lot quicker than anyone would have expected. 

Scott sees him perched on a crate when he walks in. The katana is drawn and his grip is so tight he thinks it might break his fingers right there and then. The Nogitsune doesn’t even give him a chance. He’s meets him in a few short strides and has Stiles’ fingers wrap themselves around Scott’s neck, his other hand tight around the wrist holding the sword.

‘So predictable,’ it twisted Stiles’ features into a snarl. Stiles had never looked at him like that. 

‘This is your last chance to get the hell out of my best friend.’ Scott was slowly running out of air, his neck gaining bruises that were healing almost as quickly as they came.

‘No wolf can kill me, boy. Not even an Alpha.’

‘I’m not just an Alpha,’ and in that moment Scott’s eyes blazed with a red so bright that the Nogitsune loosened its grip in surprise. It was less than a second, but that’s all Scott needed. In a motion so quick he almost thought it hadn’t happened, he had driven the blade through the monster’s chest. 

Through Stiles’ chest.

‘I’m his brother,’ and with that Scott pulled the blade from its body, whereupon it instantly shattered into hundreds of pieces, falling to the ground with a round of crashes.

Blood came running down through the corners of Stiles’ mouth, and his eyes were wide. But they were no longer empty, they we filled with fear.

‘Stiles. Stiles!’ Scott’s own eyes matched the fear of the other boy’s.

Stiles’ body slumped against Scott’s, and Scott lowered the wheezing boy onto the ground, hands resting on his white cheeks. Stiles’ features seemed to calm somewhat, and his eyes locked with Scott’s.

‘H-hey.’ A cough. More blood.

‘Stiles, oh God, Stiles. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I can fix this. I’ll fix it, I swear.’

Stiles’ hand came up to grip the front of Scott’s shirt. His fingers were covered in blood.

‘Not your fault, Scotty-.’

‘Stiles, don’t talk. Please, just-’

‘Guess it took something pretty big to pull us apart in the end, huh?’

Scott couldn’t say anything at this point, his whole body was wracking with sobs. His mind flashed briefly back to his asthma attacks as a kid. A memory appears of a time he’s had a particularly bad attack, and had been hospitalised for it. Stiles had stayed with him all night, reading comics aloud, making sure to do the voices of each and every character in order to make Scott laugh. Halfway through he had stopped, placing Batman down and putting a tiny hand awkwardly over Scott’s. ‘You’ll never leave me, will you Scott?’ Stile’s mom had passed the year before. Scott had smiled at the boy, and ran a hand over his newly buzzed hair. ‘It’ll take something bigger than a crummy old asthma attack to pull us apart.’

Stiles’ groan of pain brought him back to the present.

‘What can I do? There must be something.’ Scott was practically hyperventilating, and he knew his eyes were glowing. ‘Please don’t die Stiles, please. I need you.’

‘Can you just-.’ Stile’s dropped his hand to the other boy’s, clasping them together with the little strength he had left. ‘Please.’

Scott held on tightly to Stiles’ hand, rubbing his thumb over the bruised knuckles.

The summer that they were twelves years old, they had spent every day out in the forest. They would play hide and seek, climb trees, create makeshift weapons out of branches and flint. They would be out there from the early morning until the sun started to make it’s way down. And every day, before they headed home, they would lie on their backs on the grass and look up at the tree tops. They wouldn’t say anything. They’d just watch as the sun made it’s way to bed, shortly followed by their journey home to their own beds, sleepily mumbling about their plans for the next day.

That didn’t seem nearly long enough ago.

‘Hey, Scott,’ Stiles’ let out a weak chuckle, or that’s what Scott assumed it was. It was more of a harsh breath than anything. His eyes were focused on something over Scott’s shoulder ‘The trees. Would you look at that.’

Scott’s brow furrowed in confusion as he looked up. They were at least a mile from the forest, and the only thing above them was the rafters of the old, crumbling roof. The corner of the moon could just be seen through a gap in the roof. There were no trees in sight.

‘Stiles, what are you talking about man, there aren’t an-’, but any ability to speak left him completely as he turned his head back to find the still body of his best friend.

‘Stiles’, he said after a moment. He nudged the boy with a shaking hand. ‘Stiles, come on this isn’t funny.’

They’re five years old. They’re playing at being kings and knights and Stiles is lying on the ground with a wooden sword tucked between his chest and his arm, feigning dead.

Scott tickles him until Stiles yells between peals of laughter, ‘alright, alright, I give!’

But they’re not kids anymore. And Stiles isn’t playing. Stiles isn’t breathing.

Scott’s entire body trembles and before he knows what he’s doing, his head is thrown back, teeth bared, and he’s letting out the most pained, animalistic howl he’s ever heard. It seems to last for days, for years, but when the very last of his energy is spent, he’s collapsing against Stiles’ chest and clinging to him as tears fall upon the stained shirt one after another. 

He thinks he blacks out at this point.

The next thing he’s aware of is Derek heaving him into his arms, and he tries to fight him but there’s nothing left in him. So he just lets it happen. He lets Derek carry him away from everything, and gives in to the darkness that has been eating away at him for the last four months.

.

Scott makes sure Stiles is buried in a clearing in the forest. 

He visits the grave everyday without fail at first. He feels like to do otherwise would be a betrayal. Eventually, however, he allows himself breaks in between. Every day becomes every other day, which becomes twice a week.

He imagines Stiles teasing him for it:‘Dude, haven’t you got anything better to do than hanging out with dead people?’

But when he does visit, regardless of time, weather, or any danger the pack is facing, he lies down in the grass next to the tree they buried him under, and talks to him. He tells Scott about his day, about how Melissa and his dad are doing (‘he finally moved in with us; you were right man, it’s a lot harder sneaking out when your dad’s the sheriff.’) He talks about how Lydia won some big state prize for mathematics, and how Allison cheered louder than anyone else there. Of how the twins had left to find another pack, and how Isaac had found his own place to live. He talks of Cora coming back to live with Derek, and how they both seem happier now. 

But mostly he just talks about how much he misses him.

Every time he leaves, it’s the same. He places a hand upon the tree and rests his forehead against the old bark. ‘I love you, dude. And I’m still working on it.’

Because the few times Scott isn’t able to come visit Stiles, it’s because he’s out of the state. Or out of the country. He’s wherever Deaton has told him there might be someone who can help. Someone who can get him back. 

Scott is older, he’s wiser, he’s stronger. He still struggles with his wolf, but he has a new anchor.

The thing that anchors him is Stiles, and the knowledge that someday, somehow, he’s going to get him back. 

And if that isn’t reason enough to keep fighting, he doesn’t know what is.

.

'I'll tell you one thing  
We ain't gonna change much  
The sun still rises  
Even with the pain.

I'll tell you one thing  
We ain't gonna change love  
The sun still rises  
Even through the rain.'

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the head and the heart's 'another story'
> 
> this was very painful to write, i'm going to go curl up in a ball now, excuse me


End file.
